To Live in the Shadow
by TheGirlWithKaleidoscopeEyes
Summary: Curly Shepard looks up to Tim more than anyone else, but Tim doesn't seem to care. Curly's starting to believe in his worthlessness. But is what Curly thinks really true?
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

**Disclaimer** - I do not own The Outsiders.

_This fic is being posted as part of "Good Fic Day," an effort to raise the quality of writing here. We hope to encourage more writers to improve the quality of their own fan fiction - spell check, grammar check, keep the gang in character, outline, plot and don't use Mary Sues. Good fan fiction requires effort, and we would like to encourage other writers to rise to the challenge of producing better fan fiction, not only for our readers, but for S.E. Hinton, who created the wonderful book we are trying to honour._

XxXx

Curly Shepard stood at the end of Trenton Avenue staring across the expressway that separated the two worlds that existed in his town. The south side, with it's big houses, expensive cars, and spoiled kids, and the north side, with it's run down houses, stolen cars, and juvenile delinquents. Curly stood on the north side.

He didn't watch the south side with envy or jealousy, as some people in his position might, because he didn't want to be like the people over there. No, instead he stared across the expressway with hate-filled eyes. He hated the south side and everyone who lived there, for the mere fact that they were from the south side. South-siders, or Socs as they were called, lived and breathed for the sole purpose of making life hell for north-siders, or greasers. At least, that's the way it seemed.

Curly turned and made his way deeper into the north side, his footfalls the only sound in the deserted neighbourhood. It was about ten minutes before he reached the tracks where he took a left. He followed the train tracks until he came to the familiar break in the trees that lead to Easton Street and home.

He hadn't even reached the small house in the middle of the street when the shouts reached his ears. He thought about turning around and going somewhere else, anywhere else, but he had no where to go and no money to get there, so he continued.

As he began up the front walkway, the door banged open and a girl, Curly's sister, stormed her way out of the house. "Where you goin'?" he called after her.

"Aw, whatta you care?" she yelled over her shoulder as she crossed the lawn.

He just watched her go. He considered calling out to her again, but he knew it wouldn't make a difference, it never did. She never listened to him. She never listened to anyone except Tim. But Curly wasn't Tim - not even close. As much as he wanted to, he would never be like Tim.

Tim was cool and collected all the time. Tim could lead a gang into battle and come out on top. Tim held the respect of almost everyone on the north side, and those who didn't respect him, feared him.

Curly didn't hold that kind of power over people. Curly was just dumb.

He continued up the front walk, slowly climbing the porch steps when he reached them. He pushed the screen door open and was suddenly in the middle of a war zone. His step-father was bellowing. His mother threw something that exploded into a million pieces as it hit the wall. Curly cringed, they already had next to nothing, the last thing they needed was his mother destroying things.

He looked up as Tim came out of his bedroom at the back of the house. "Hey, Tim," he called over the commotion.

"Hey, kid," his brother replied without even looking up. Curly ducked around his mother and joined Tim in the kitchen.

"So, what'cha doin' tonight?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

Tim gave him a sideways glance, obviously not fooled by Curly's tone. "Me and the boys got somethin' planned."

"Yeah? What?" Curly mentally kicked himself for sounding so eager.

Tim shook his head. "You ain't comin', kid."

"Aw, c'mon, Tim, why not?" Curly hated how whiny he sounded.

"'Cause I said so, that's why," his brother replied as he ducked his head into the fridge, coming out a second later with a bottle of beer in his hand.

Curly sighed as he dropped into one of the kitchen chairs. There was no one in the world he looked up to more than Tim, though he'd never admit it. And he loved being a part of the Shepard gang. Being in the Shepard gang gave him a sense of pride and entitlement, it gave him power, it made people look at him differently.

But Tim saw him as nothing more than a bother. He got in the way too much and was next to useless for anything besides a brawl. And Tim did a lot more than just brawl. Curly didn't have the brains to keep up and everyone knew it.

When Curly looked back up, Tim was staring at him with an unreadable expression. The two boys did look a lot alike, it was obvious they were brothers. They had the same blue eyes and greased back brown hair. They were both good looking, and they knew it, though Curly seemed to have more trouble attracting girls. He attributed this to his intelligence.

"What?" Curly asked, starting to feel uncomfortable under his brother's gaze.

Tim took a long drink from the bottle in his hand. "Curly, you can't come."

"Yeah, you said that already," Curly replied, a slight edge of anger in his voice.

"I know, but you still want to." Tim was completely calm, as always.

"Why can't I come? What is it that you're doing that I can't know about?" Curly pressed, desperate to have his brother involve him in some way.

Tim sighed. "Where'd Angel go?"

Curly almost growled as his brother changed the subject. "I dunno. She don't tell me nothin'. Probably got it from you." Curly rose from his chair and made his way for the front door again.

"Where you goin'?" Tim called.

"I dunno," Curly yelled over his shoulder. "Thanks to you I don't got no plans for the night. Hell, I can do anything I want."

He was out the door before Tim could get another word in. Tim was going to be busy with the boys tonight; that took most of the guys he hung around with out of the running. He decided to go over to the Curtis place, hunt up Ponyboy. He was an alright kid. Maybe they could get into some trouble.

It didn't take Curly long to get to St Louis Street and as he neared the Curtis house he could see Pony sitting on the front porch with the Cade kid and some chick he didn't know. She had long brown hair and green eyes. She was wearing a skirt that was too long for Curly's liking, it went all the way down to her feet, which were bare, he noticed. She wore a form fitting t-shirt with a pink heart on it. She wasn't bad looking at all. Curly decided he might not need Pony to be able to have fun tonight.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

**Disclaimer** - I do not own The Outsiders.

_This fic is being posted as part of "Good Fic Day," an effort to raise the quality of writing here. We hope to encourage more writers to improve the quality of their own fan fiction - spell check, grammar check, keep the gang in character, outline, plot and don't use Mary Sues. Good fan fiction requires effort, and we would like to encourage other writers to rise to the challenge of producing better fan fiction, not only for our readers, but for S.E. Hinton, who created the wonderful book we are trying to honour._

XxXx

"Hey, Curtis, Cade," Curly called out as he approached.

"Hi," Pony replied without looking up from his sketch pad. As Curly sat down beside him, he glanced over at it. He was drawing that girl. She was lying in the grass, her eyes closed. She could have been sleeping if not for the small smile on her lips. Curly decided not to ask about her just yet.

"So, Pony, wanna go hunt up some action or somethin'?" Curly asked, leaning back on his hands.

"I dunno, Curly," Ponyboy replied. "You know I can't go getting in trouble."

Curly rolled his eyes. "Where's the fun in that?" From the corner of his eye he saw the girl stir. When he looked at her, she was propped up on her elbows, head cocked to the side, staring at him. He knew she was sizing him up. "See something you like, darlin'?"

"Who are you?" she asked.

"Curly Shepard," he replied with a smirk, making sure to emphasize his last name. The girl just blinked at him, then lay back down.

"And to answer your earlier question," she began again. "No, not especially."

Curly was stunned. Not only had this girl not recognized his name, but she had flat out insulted him. He wasn't used to this kind of treatment. He was used to being ignored. He was used to people being afraid of him. He was even used to being treated like dirt. He was not, however, used to being blatantly insulted.

When Curly looked back over at Ponyboy, he could see he was biting back a smile. Obviously, he'd noticed too.

"Curly, this is Connie Bartem," he introduced after he'd composed himself. "She just moved in down the street a few weeks back."

"Yeah, good for her," Curly said stiffly. "What about you Cade? You wanna go find something to do?"

Asking Johnny Cade to hang out was a last ditch effort on Curly's part. Cade was much too shy to be of any real fun. Curly regretted asking as soon as he'd said it, but he did seem to have a habit of not thinking before he spoke.

Curly was almost relieved when Cade shook his head and went back to staring at the setting sun. Again, though, Curly was left with nothing to do. He sighed, frustrated.

"Well, this was a waste of time," Curly said after a moment of unbearable silence. "I'm outta here."

Curly had only made it to the next house down when he heard the sound of bare feet on pavement coming toward him. He didn't turn as the Connie chick caught up to him. When she fell in step beside him, he gave her a sideways glance.

"What do you want?" he questioned, none-too politely. Now that he was getting a good look at her, he could see that she was fairly good looking, though not at all his type. Her skirt was too long, as was her pin straight brown hair. He preferred blondes anyway.

"Why do you assume I want something?" she replied in the same tone she'd used before. She wasn't offended or trying to offend. She was simply speaking.

Her calmness was slightly unsettling. While Tim was almost always calm, he was still passionate. Curly had come to realize that everything on the north side was about passion. People were passionate when they fought and about what they said.

There was no passion to Connie. Her entire demeanor was unnerving to Curly.

"'Cause most of the time, when a girl is following me around like a lost puppy, she does want something," he said easily. "Usually I don't have a problem with giving it to her. For you I'm thinking I'll make an exception."

"That's very considerate of you," Connie said as if he was doing her a favour and not insulting her. "Especially since I don't want anything."

"Then why are you following me?" Curly asked, getting frustrated.

"I'm not following you," she said. "You should really stop being so conceited, Curly Shepard."

Suddenly, Connie turned and made her way up the front walk of the house they'd been passing. She walked right through the front door and shut it softly behind her. She really hadn't been following him. She was just going home.

XxXx

Curly sat at home later - having found nothing to do - watching the television he and Tim had once boosted from a pawn shop downtown. It was in terrible shape; the volume knob was missing completely and the channel knob only worked if you stood beside the set, not in front of it. Curly didn't understand this, but at least it worked.

His mother and Rick, his step-dad, hadn't been in the living room when he'd gotten home. He hadn't bothered to see if they were still in the house or not. Their fights always ended in one of two ways and Curly knew the result of both.

Either they'd made up and moved to their bedroom (Curly really didn't want to think about that in too much detail) or Rick had stormed out and his mother was sitting in her room, brooding. If it was the latter, Rick would come back about two days later, reeking of alcohol.

The phone rang and Curly jumped. "Who the hell would be calling at this time of the night?" he mumbled, reaching for it. "Hello?"

"Curly?" It was Angela.

"Where the hell are you?" he questioned.

Angela sighed and he knew she was rolling her eyes. "I'm at Sarah's. I'm staying the night."

"No, you're not," Curly replied without a moment's hesitation.

"Yes, I am," Angel shot back, getting defensive.

"No, you're not," Curly said again.

"And why not?" Angela was starting to get angry.

"Because the last time you stayed the night at someone's house, Tim found you in some guy's lap at Buck's," Curly explained.

"I don't listen to you, Curly," Angela said.

"No, but you do listen to Tim, and while he'd probably have no problem rearranging some guy's face, I'm sure you wouldn't want him to," Curly replied. "Be home in an hour."

"We'll see," Angela said before hanging up.

Curly sighed and put the receiver down. He leaned his head back and cursed his little sister. She could be such a pain in the ass.

After a few moments of near silence, permeated only by the dull drone of the newscaster on the television, the front door banged open and Tim entered. He came in and sat on the other end of the couch from Curly.

"What's goin' on, kid?" he asked, lighting a cigarette. Curly just shrugged. Tim blew his smoke across the room and tried again, "Where's Angel?"

"I dunno," Curly answered. "She called and said she was staying at some girl's house. I told her no way in hell and to be home in an hour. But you know she don't ever listen to me."

"Okay," Tim said, nodding his head. "If she ain't home soon, I'll go find her."

Sensing the conversation was over, Curly rose from the couch and made his way toward his room.

"Night, kid," he heard Tim say.

Curly paused as a thought struck him. "Hey, Tim," he called. His brother looked up at him. "What's conceited mean?"

"What?" Tim questioned.

"Conceited, what's it mean?" Curly asked again.

In the dull glow from the television, he saw Tim smirk. "Who's calling you conceited, kid?" Curly frowned at the amusement in his brother's voice.

"Never mind," he said stiffly. Turning back around, he made his way into his room and went to bed.


End file.
